


Five Hundred Miles

by listentothewordsyousay



Series: Five Hundred Miles [1]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listentothewordsyousay/pseuds/listentothewordsyousay
Summary: She had been in Scotland before.Before the bomb went off, and the computers had crashed. Before the riots and the curfews and the massacres. Before the electricity was turned off and public services faded into memories.Before.





	1. Chapter 1

She had been in Scotland before.

Before the bomb went off, and the computers had crashed. Before the riots and the curfews and the massacres. Before the electricity was turned off and public services faded into memories.

Before.

When she had been young, and thought that marriage and love coexisted with obedience and developing a polite-you’re-in-company-persona. As it happened, polite people didn’t survive bombs and riots.

And so Claire Beauchamp Randall was on her own. She had somehow wandered the length of the country, past the rock with SCOTLAND carved proudly upon it, into the glens of the Borders.

The past week had seemed almost enjoyable. It had not rained and she had managed to find some bread. She had seen no soldiers and no aircraft passed overhead. The few other desperate souls on the road had passed her by. One look at her would convince anyone that she had nothing for the taking. Compared to the standards set by the first few weeks of this strange new life, it was positively boring.

As she had wandered through blitzed city streets and scorched country lanes, she had learned to walk with her eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched. Drawing attention to yourself was dangerous. Fear began to rise inside her now as she realised she was on an open road. Spying a thicket of trees, she pushed aside the hedgerows and undergrowth, praying that her drab green overalls would provide camouflage.

She felt safer as the trees grew thicker. The birds of the forest were chirping and singing. There was the occasional rustle of leaves or ripple of branches in the wind. The evening sun peeked through the canopy of leaves and she suddenly realised how exhausted she was. An hour’s rest, and then onwards, to find a place before dark.

Claire never heard the footsteps surround her. She was oblivious to the voices which softly discussed her. She slumbered through the racket of a camp being set up. It was only a loud laugh which startled her awake. She sat bolt upright and would have screamed, were it not for the gag around her mouth. A pair of astonishingly blue eyes looked directly at her.

‘And who are you, lass?’


	2. Chapter 2

She had explained her circumstances as honestly as possible. She had been caught up in the trouble, her husband had died and she didn’t know where she was going, she just trying to find somewhere safe. Her captor had listened intently, tapping two fingers against his thigh.

In another time, she would have been awestruck. He was easily six feet tall, with the broad shoulders of a rugby player. His clear blue eyes were framed with red curls and slanted Viking cheekbones. Even in the bedraggled remains of a Scottish military uniform, he was beautiful.

In this time, she was too tired and afraid to be awestruck. He looked profoundly capable of anything, with his rifle slung to his back and his crew of armoured cronies. They were all eyeing her warily.

‘Alright,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’ll stay with us.’ He must have sensed the panic rising up in her stomach, for he added, ‘you’ll be safe and looked after. I don’t hold with rape or torture, and I believe what you told me.’

Claire clenched her fists to stop them betraying any more of her nerves. She didn’t want to be surrounded by this group of men. She certainly didn’t want to be drawn into whatever it was they were doing. 

‘Come on, then. Eat.’ Her stomach did betray her then, gurgling loudly. The men laughed (’Got a set of bagpipes in there, hen?’) and dished her out a bowl of stew. They had bantered back and forth before settling into a companionable silence around their fire. She stole glances at them as they ate. There was a tall, sinewy man with no hair, a thickset man with a bushy beard and a small, skinny man with a black beard too. In charge of them all seemed to be this young, blue eyed man. They called him Jamie.

After they had eaten, they began their night duties. Jamie instructed her to set up her sleeping bag beside his.

It had been months since she had slept in such close proximity to a man. She felt painfully aware of his size, as he turned on his side to face her. His eyes were closed and his chest moved softly up and down as he slept. Heat seemed to radiate through him, as the gentle snores and the sound of his breathing lulled her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

‘Will I wake her up?’

The Scottish accent pronounced ‘I’ like ‘ah’. Another voice responded with a noise between a gurgle and a grumble. ‘She’ll only need fed’. ‘Dunno why he’s keeping her with us.’ ‘Look at her, she’s no a threat.’ ‘You never know Rupert, that’s how we’re in this mess’.

Claire concentrated on breathing slowly and steadily. She kept her eyelids shut and willed her stomach not to gurgle again. She heard the men’s footsteps retreat and their voices become quieter, and risked opening one eye. She appeared to be on her own. She sat up almost immediately, rolling her pack up and searching for her rucksack.

‘Off somewhere?’ It was Jamie, leaning idly against a tree. She opened her mouth and found nothing to say, so shut it again. ‘Well?’ He folded his arms smugly, in a movement that was reminiscent of a male model in a perfume commercial. The notion was so bizarre and so unsettling that she had to force herself not to laugh.

‘I can’t stay here with you.’

‘Why not? Where else have you got to go?’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘A Sassenach in Scotland? No, you can’t.’ He had not been expecting her to argue.

‘Then I’ll only put you in danger by staying’. She was standing in front of him with her chin tilted up. ‘I can take care of myself.’

His eyes were becoming darker and a flush was rising out of his collar. ‘No, you can’t. You need to stay with us. It’s not safe.’

‘It isn’t up to you to take care of me!’ she retorted furiously. She took a deep breath, making a marathon effort to keep her voice level. ‘You don’t even know who I am!’

‘I can tell enough’, he retorted. One thing she could tell that he was on the edge of losing his temper completely. He seemed bigger than usual as he came closer to her, jaw clenched and eyes blazing. ‘But feel free. Off you go. Will I bury your body when I find it or burn it?’

She flinched. ‘Are you threatening me?’

‘No. I am telling you what I have seen, and I am telling you that I can protect you.’

She looked up at him and pursed her lips. ‘I won’t sleep with you, or your men.’

He growled. ‘I’m an honourable man’.

‘I’m only staying until I can find a safe place to be on my own.’

His shoulders slumped and his voice cracked. ‘I’m not sure that that place exists any more, Sassenach.’


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days continued peacefully. The men were moving somewhere and Claire went with them, growing accustomed to being part of a group. She walked in the centre, and continued to sleep beside Jamie. Nine times out of ten he walked beside her during the day too. There had been no conclusion to the argument they had had. She still didn’t know why he was so insistent that she stayed with them; she was only another hungry mouth and a much slower pair of feet. Despite his dire warnings, they saw no other soldiers and no evidence of the war.

On the fifth day, Jamie disappeared. She felt his absence keenly, having grown accustomed to looking up at him to point something out or ask a question. His men seemed to miss him too, bickering and whining like unsupervised children. He had an absurdly gentle, caring manner for a man in a soldier’s uniform with a rifle on his back. Every now and then he smiled, or made a joke, and she would become acutely aware of how beautiful he was.

He returned at sundown, his mouth tightly set in a line. She glanced at him and pulled the flask of good whiskey out of Rupurt’s pack. She handed it to him silently. He looked at her with gratitude and drank before he spoke. ‘I need to speak to my men.’

Despite her previous protests, the thought of leaving him panicked her. She really had no clue where she was, and something was clearly changing for the worse. He put his hand on her arm. ‘Just ten minutes. You’ll be safe. Sit beside that rowan.’

She opened her mouth to protest but the look on his face convinced her.

He was true to his word. Ten minutes later he came to sit beside her and sighed heavily. She stretched out her legs and searched her brain for words that could sum up the bizarre hideousness of the situation.

‘What did you do before?’

He smiled, looking off into the distance. ‘I bred horses. What did you do?’

‘I wanted to go to university, but my husband…’ she finished her sentence by screwing up her mouth.

Jamie looked baffled. ‘He wouldn’t let you?’

She shrugged. ‘He’s dead now.’

‘Ah.’

‘Were you married?’

He looked amused. ‘No. Couldn’t find anyone to put up with me.’

She laughed. He seemed utterly suited to living wild. She couldn’t imagine him in living in a house, paying the bills, washing up dishes in a sink or popping out for milk. He seemed born to tramp around the Scottish heather like an outlaw.

They sat in silence. She couldn’t help but watch him. He had rested his elbows on his knees, still lost in thought. He laughed suddenly, making him seem ten years younger, and reached forward to break off a green stem. ‘What did you call these, growing up?’

She frowned. ‘I… I don’t know. Grass?’

He leaned over and stuck it to her sleeve, his shoulders shaking with laughter. ‘Look, it sticks. We called them sticky willies.’ He laughed out loud, resting his head in his arms as he chuckled. She laughed at him despite herself. ‘As in, you’ve got a sticky willy?’ Another roar of laughter came out of him and he threw the plant at her playfully. ‘Imagine you saying that to me!’

Eventually he lay back, grinning. ‘I told you. Who’d put up with me?’ A few more chuckles escaped before he sat up straight again. The hilarity had vanished as quickly as it had arrived.

‘We should try and sleep, Sassenach.’

‘Is something up, Jamie?’

He hesitated before nodding.

‘Should I be worried?’

‘No.’

She could have sworn he added ‘not with me,’ but it may have only been the noise of the wind.


	5. Chapter 5

The world was on fire.

The sky was lit by an orange glow and billowing clouds of thick black smoke. Silvery aircraft swooped among the tufts of cloud and smoke. Occasionally one would try and douse the flames with a sheet of water. Its feeble attempts would be drowned out by a rival’s bomb. There would be a sonic boom every so often as the bombs hit ground, turning solid surfaces into pieces.

Their whole camp was awake. They were too far away to hear or smell the true impact of the battle, but the picture in front of them spoke a thousand words. No-one spoke. Single words and short sentences seemed hopelessly inadequate to try and describe those thousand words.

Claire sat alone, alternating between hiding her eyes with her fingers and looking hopelessly on. It was unbearable. She heard his footsteps behind her and looked round, ready to break down and wail into his chest.

She saw his face and stopped. ‘Come here,’ she whispered. He sat down beside her and leaned into towards her helplessly, raising his arms as she raised hers. She tilted her head to rest on his curls, feeling hopelessly inadequate. She cursed the world and its war for having this effect on her rock, her protector. He raised his head and looked into her eyes. ‘Claire. I’m sorry’.

‘Don’t be,’ she breathed and in unison they embraced again. She felt him shift and move them until they were lying down together, legs and arms intertwined, her face buried in his shoulder. She felt him stroke her hair and heard him whisper in a language she didn’t understand. She had the sudden deranged thought that if she was a horse, she’d let him ride her anywhere. The idea nearly made her laugh, coming out as a hiccup as she tried to shove that particular picture back into its delusional box somewhere in her brain. ‘Are you okay?’ he whispered anxiously. Mentally berating herself for her stupid, insensitive thoughts, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

‘I….’ he started the sentence and stopped. She murmured encouragingly, feeling the hysteria clear again. ‘I want very much to kiss you’. She searched for the words she wanted, and finding none, lifted her hands to cup his face. ‘You can, if you want.’ ‘Not like this.’ His voice was full of regret and sadness. She felt tears rise. ‘When this is all over,’ she said, unsure if it was a question or a statement. ‘When this is all over,’ he repeated, and she knew that it wasn’t a question at all.


	6. Chapter 6

They picked up the pace the next morning, moving swiftly towards what used to be Glasgow. They left the wilderness behind and began to see signs of other survivors- fires left behind, the occasional shout, a small group visible in the distance. One day the men at the front of the group found bodies. Jamie would not allow Claire to move forward until they had been decently buried.

As they moved on, they met the first group of soldiers. They leapt back to salute Jamie, checking ID cards as a formality and addressing him in tones of reverence. Claire watched the display surreptitiously, afraid of what they might say to her when they checked her own card and discovered how far she had come.

‘She’s with me,’ Jamie said, arrogantly putting his arm around her. She felt the rest of the platoon look away from her, bowing to his authority. She kept her eyes lowered. How had he done it? One confident, rugby-boy remark and she was marked as a possession. Suddenly cross at the macho-man display, she lifted her head and glared at them.

Jamie kept his arm around her as they were escorted into an armoured vehicle. ‘We’ll stay here for a while,’ he whispered into her ear. His stubble brushed her cheek as he moved in closer to her. Despite all the destruction around them, or perhaps because of it, the one thing she wanted the most was for him to move, to tilt his head up and press his lips against hers. She spoke as quietly as he had done. ‘Can I stay with you Jamie?’


	7. Chapter 7

They were driven through the streets of the city, through smoking embers and rubble, into run-down streets of apartments and finally into streets that were confusingly normal. There were no cars; but the windows were fully glazed, the buildings were intact, the doors safely and securely locked. An armoured patrol stood outside the building they were ushered into.

The apartment seemed like the height of luxury. It felt impossibly decadent to walk on carpeted floors and touch, let alone sit on, a creamy-gray sofa. She cringed and turned away when she saw herself in the mirror, acutely aware of the dirt and the smell she was bringing in.

She had a shower first, disgusted at the way the water turned black as it ran off her body. She scrubbed at the soles of her feet until they felt raw. She ran a bath next. The aches and pains of exhaustion and near-starvation seemed new again, weighing her down in the blissfully hot water. She washed her hair three times, until she was too tired to hold her arms up any longer.

Rummaging in the hot press, she had discovered towels as well as soft sets of cotton pyjamas and loungewear. Claire pushed the guilt about their previous owner to the back of her mind, slipped them on and opened the door. Jamie was lying on the bed with his arms above his head. He turned to look at her and smiled. ‘Scrub up well, don’t we?’

She laughed and crawled over to sit beside him. ‘I was filthy. Disgusting. You should have seen the dirt.’

‘And you’re only a wee tiny thing. Imagine how much was on me?’ As she looked at him, her heart and lungs seemed to skip simultaneously. She was suddenly aware that she wanted this and more; to be lying in bed beside him, to lie on top of him and run her hands through his curls, to push up his tshirt and trace the outline of the muscles that ran down below the waistband of his sweats.

The moment lasted too long; it was gone. He was speaking again and it took her a couple of moments to tune back in. ‘….party,’ he was saying. ‘A few of the boys, if you fancy it?’


	8. Chapter 8

They ended up in a club, and of all the terrifying, wild things that had happened in the past six months, it was the club which seemed the most bizarre. Electronic music thumped around them in the dim light and the crowd of young men and women moved steadily in time to the beat.

They had been drinking steadily since around eight o’clock and it was at least midnight. Jamie bent down to speak in her ear, brushing his stubble off her cheek. ‘I am steamin’, Sassenach’. She had never heard that expression before, but she was fairly sure she could guess, especially after Rupert’s appearance with a round of electric blue ‘pints’a fun’. Jamie had a delirious smile on his face and his hands in the air, keeping some sort of beat to the music and occasionally displaying the odd outrageous dance move. She was laughing already, not far behind him thanks to her own pint of electric blue liver failure in a cup. ‘I LOVED this song!’ she shrieked, long forgotten lyrics flowing back into her mind with the familiar tune. 

She moved closer to him, shaking her hips against his. He looked down at her, grinning, until she realised he was rapping along. She burst out laughing and joined in with the chorus, so drunk that she was completely happy making a fool of herself with this strange, violent, funny, caring, young man. It already seemed second nature to put her hands around his neck and kiss him. She couldn’t even tell who had gone first; all she knew was that his mouth was soft and his hands were on her back and in her hair. She felt herself turning around, pressing back into his hips and moving to the beat of the music. He held her hands and cradled her as she moved, kissing her neck and ear. ‘Let’s go home?’

‘Let’s go home’.

 

 

———————————-

 

Pint of Fun:

1/2/3 shots of vodka (personal preference)

1 blue VK (or alcopop of preference)

Mix with lemonade

 

As always, drink responsibly :)


	9. Chapter 9

It turned out that wartime held many similarities with Fresher’s Week. High on freedom and drunk on cheap booze, Claire spent the next weeks in cavernous warehouse-clubs, dingy, sticky pubs and the occasional chic bar, knocking back shots and spirits and dancing on tables to long forgotten disco anthems.

Those weeks were also spent in a tangle of legs and arms and sheets with Jamie Fraser, drunk on lust as much as any spirit or shot. He could be as gentle as a butterfly, adorning her neck and tummy and thighs with tiny kisses, cupping her face with his hands and whispering the word ‘beautiful’, enough to make her believe it. He could be quick and powerful enough to make her lose the power of speech, only able to hold onto him and gasp as she came back down to earth. Morning after morning, they would wake up wrapped in each others’ arms, her head resting on his chest and his hands resting gently on her back.

The word love had been used that first night; there was no point denying it. The world was burning around them, while they only burned for each other. They were oblivious to everything but themselves and the music they danced to.

Why did it always rain on me, they asked, singing about home, and a ship called Dignity. Take me out, they sang, take me to the discoland. Jamie lost his mind over bits and pieces and faithfully grew misty-eyed bellowing about Caledonia.

It didn’t end suddenly, but in small doses: they were moved building. The curfew crept back in. The nights began to be punctuated with angry noises from outside as well as their own soft whispers and gasps.

Jamie was necessary again; anonymous men in uniforms came to fetch him and took him away for hours at time. Sometimes he returned buzzing with a fury reminiscent of thunder. He threw himself into press-ups and ran up and down the stairs until he could collapse, sweating and sated. Other times he would come back and silently kiss her, gently removing her clothes and lifting her into the shower, keeping her pinned against the tiles until they she could take no more and cried out for him.

Their music changed. I’ll take your bruises, she promised. It’s you and me until the end of time, he still believed. Slow down, lie down, remember it’s just you and me, they told each other, just let me hold you. She’d walked five hundred miles to reach him, she’d walk five hundred more.

The ending finally came on a dark night when the rain pounded the streets and ran down the windows. There was no electricity and their food rations had been suspended. She had been lying reading by candlelight on the sofa when he came in, nuzzled against her cheek and slowly slid on top of her. His tongue asked her lips for permission before sliding into her mouth. He was so gentle it scared her. She trembled as he lifted up her shirt, willing for him to speak. He looked at her silently as if he was worshipping her, touching her reverently, as if she was going to break. 

He only spoke as they lay together afterwards. ‘You need to leave’.


	10. Chapter 10

‘There’s no other way,’ he said stubbornly, as she screamed, wept, pleaded, reasoned and refused.

They had been abandoned; the army was withdrawing, leaving only those brave, foolish souls who refused to leave their Saltires behind them.

‘We’ll stay together,’ she begged. ‘I can fire a gun. I can do it, Jamie.’

He had taken to speaking in Gaelic. ‘No, mo nighean donne. You can’t.’ He remained steadfast through all of her attempts. ‘You need to go, where it’s safe.’

‘Will you come and find me, Jamie?’

He remained silent and she knew the dreadful truth; he saw no way out, he meant to die. She grabbed his face, climbing on his knees so she could look directly at him. ‘I am not living without you. I need you to live. I need you to come back to me.’ She was crying with rage and fear, her hands shaking. ‘You are not leaving me!’

‘I’m not leaving you alone,’ he said. ‘I’ve made arrangements, Claire, you’ll have a place to live. John Grey will make sure of it, I know him well.’

‘Not without you,’ she sobbed. ‘How can I leave you? I won’t go, you can’t make me.’

He raised his eyes to her, the blue fathomless and sad like the ocean. ‘Claire. Please don’t make this harder. I need you to be safe. I can’t see you harmed.’ He paused and started to speak, before stopping. He took a breath and started again. ‘I know about the baby.’

She gaped at him. ‘I’m not… it’s not…. It’s only because there’s been no food… it won’t…’ She broke off as the tears began to run down both of their faces. He laid his big hand gently on her stomach. ‘Please, Claire. Go and have the baby, keep them safe.’

She was sobbing again, her last reason to argue gone. ‘I love you,’ she whispered through the tears. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know.’

They lay on the carpet all night, memorising each other’s body, each freckle, each scar, each dimple. She ran her hands over his body, trying to will survival into each cell of his being. He cupped and cherished, trying to will his own strength into the little child inside of her.

The morning dawned, bright and cold. She had gone numb and blank, so he dressed her, kissing her forehead, her nose and her lips. The tears began to stream down her face again as they drove towards the landing site. They sat side by side in the army jeep, unable to look at the other. 

She had no belongings but a new identity card, safely stowed in the pocket above her heart, stamped CLAIRE FRASER, wife of JAMES ALEXANDER MALCOM MCKENZIE FRASER. She imagined the letters branding themselves onto her heart through the fabric as they made their way towards the helicopter.

Her legs seem to move in slow motion of their own accord, pushed by his hand at the base of her spine. He propelled her up the stairs until she suddenly came to, shrieking his name as she turned to find him.

His strong arms wrapped around her in a crushing embrace, her face pressed into his uniform. She raised her face to his and they kissed, his hands in her hair and her fingers tracing his stubble. He broke and pressed his nose to her. ‘I love you. I love you. I will come and find you.’

‘And the baby,’ she choked.

‘And the baby. I’ll come. I love you.’ His own voice was breaking. He traced the outline of her arms, gently stepping away and nodding to the pilot.

The door was slammed shut. The engines roared and her screams of anguish were drowned out as she was lifted away, leaving him on the ground below.


End file.
